We wake against the side of Monte Sole,
with two valleys opening below us.
Green upon green,
the mountains are alive in the morning light.

There is nowhere we need to rush.
The day seems to have forgotten how to hurry.
But at the edge of my sight,
a priest stands beside his bicycle.

We meet each other slowly,
faces become names,
strangers become companions,
voices fill the spaces between the trees.

Beyond our small circle there is almost nobody.

a tourist now and then,
a car far below,
but as quickly as they pass,
their sound fades away.

But at the edge of my sight,
a priest stands beside his bicycle.

The countryside is beautiful here.
So green it almost seems to glow against the mountain side.

The valleys are quiet,
the paths are empty,
the afternoon stretches without urgency.
I wonder "why is nobody here".

At the edge of my sight,
a priest is still standing against his bicycle.

Perhaps this is simply peace?

Perhaps peace looks like- this.
Empty roads,
slow days,
mountains keeping watch;
the world reduced to silence.

But something in the silence asks us not to mistake emptiness for peace,
Something in the priests presence strikes me.

In that moment the landscape changes.
The green is still green,
the mountain still beautiful,
the valley is still quiet.

But now the priest is standing beside his bicycle.
He is shepherding me.